Random thoughts from a carpetbagger living in the Great Republic of Texas

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Last Call for Last Supper

Recently, a Texas death row inmate put in this request for his last meal: a triple-meat bacon cheeseburger, a meat-lover's pizza, a big bowl of okra with ketchup, a pound of barbecue, a half a loaf of bread, peanut butter fudge, a pint of ice cream and two chicken-fried steaks. Instead of responding with a laugh, prison officials/chefs responded with: “Would you like some fries or a hot apple pie or delicious sundae to go with that?”

The death row inmate got his meal, but of course he didn’t eat it all, and this so infuriated a state senator that “last meals” were immediately banned. Apparently, killing the inmate wasn’t enough; everyone else on death row had to be punished for his gluttony. So, one greedy or possibly vengeful inmate ruined it for everyone else in the cell block, and they can’t even beat him up or shank him because he’s already dead.

Now for their last meal, death row inmates must eat whatever happens to be coming out of the prison kitchen that day. I imagine it’s hard enough knowing it’s your last day on earth, but now to endure the added cruelty of being killed on meatloaf night?

Would it really be too difficult to implement some sort of menu system for last meals? Simply let the inmate choose an appetizer, entrée and dessert or something from the Chili’s “2 for $20” menu. The state can’t grant one decent request and try to be the bigger person? I mean, the state gets the last laugh anyway.

But this being Texas, there is another solution inspired by moms everywhere: an inmate gets to order anything he wants for his last meal. If he cleans his plate, he gets lethal injection. If not, it’s off to the electric chair!

About Me

I live in a small town in Texas. I am the real America. I wasn't born in the republic which means I'm not really Texan. I do have a pickup truck but since it's a Nissan, I'm still not considered Texan. I only drive it when no one is looking. I'm a man without a country and a man without a car. I'm an entrepreneur but not a good one as I recently had to close down the family restaurant. But that makes me an economic expert. I can seriously blame the restaurant's closing on Obama, Cheney, NAFTA, Cash for Clunkers, TARP and even Bernie Madoff who never spent millions in my restaurant. Not even a dime.